


A Very Slippery Slope

by telm_de_plume



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Bathing/Washing, Comfort, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discipline, Fluff, Loving Humiliation, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Over the Knee, Punishment, Spanking, Temper Tantrums, Verbal Humiliation, little!john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29031672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telm_de_plume/pseuds/telm_de_plume
Summary: John Constantine, always ready to die on the stupidest hill possible. (Or, rather, get spanked on it.) Chas, at least, is amused.
Relationships: Chas Chandler/John Constantine
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	A Very Slippery Slope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexandriaToHogwarts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandriaToHogwarts/gifts).



> Okay, so here goes nothing!
> 
> Actually, this here goes for "Age play little throws tantrum and gets punished with a spanking (then there's comfort?)" But no "?" at the end, there's definitely comfort. 
> 
> There's mentions of a sexual relationship between Chas and John when John isn't in his little headspace, but no sex while age playing.
> 
> Also, please note that the good ol' "don't like, don't read" applies to this. Don't like, don't read! :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy, recip!

Having recently completed a successful “exorcism” of some plushies and increasingly mutilated action figures, John is now very busy playing with his toy cars when Chas cruelly interrupts him by saying, “Time for a bath and then bed, okay?”

John looks up, frowning, because it’s not okay, actually, and he shakes his head. 

Chas gives him a fondly exasperated look, clearly not having expected this to go differently, and says, “Sorry, buddy, but you need to get yourself cleaned up and then we both need some rest. You can play with Diabolus—” this being, of course, John’s favorite plushie, a large and somewhat malformed floppy black cat “—until you’re sleepy enough to go to bed once you’re done with your bath, okay?” 

It continues to not be okay, _actually_ , and John communicates that by pouting and crossing his arms. He doesn’t want to go to bed. It isn’t nearly as fun as toys. And baths certainly aren’t.

Maybe John would be okay with bed if he didn’t have to take a bath too, but apparently he does, and he doesn’t want one! He’s clean enough and Chas cleans him so thoroughly it’s embarrassing sometimes. Especially once it starts feeling nice. Whatever. He doesn’t think it will this time anyway, because he doesn’t want to, and he says so, whingeing until Chas starts using a warning voice. 

That makes John hesitate and consider his options. It’s not like he wants smacks now or to have to go to sleep early next time he’s little, which would probably lead to smacks anyway because John is self-aware enough to know that he would (rightfully!) pitch a fit if he were to be put to bed early like some kind of misbehaving child.

Besides, he might actually be a bit messy from the day, since when John thinks about it there’s some mud in his hair, maybe, and on his trousers, possibly, and the only reason he’s not messier is because he was wearing his trench coat, which is now in the wash, and Zed made him wash his hands and face once he got home before he did anything else, including fully (or kinda fully? Half...ly?) happily waltzing into the headspace he’s in now. 

Chas says he already let all that slide for long enough, and John rolls his eyes and then pushes his cars to the side, finally admitting to himself that he doesn’t smell all that good, so Chas is maybe-possibly-a-bit right about the bath. 

Then John has an idea, and not to be overconfident or anything, but it’s an amazing idea. 

He can take a shower, like a grown-up, and only because he wants to smell better and be clean and not because Chas told him to. 

John brightens, a plan having formed in his head. 

Chas has been treating him like he’s real little since they got home from the case in Philadelphia, possibly because John’s words got simpler and he started clinging and then nodded when Chas asked if he wanted his kitty, and John is fine with being treated little, because he’s little right now, and cheerfully so, but being treated really little is a bit much, given that John’s obviously been very, very grown-up lately, and he might be feeling a pang of insecurity or three about being little at all right now and—wait. The point. 

The point is John can wash himself and show Chas how big he is even now that he’s little, since everything he did when he was a grown-up today and yesterday and before and all that (including, notably, some enthusiastic and prolonged shags with the person who’s being so mean to him now) makes him pretty confident he can do this. 

So John, excited, says, “I can shower! By myself!” 

He grins, waiting for Chas to agree with him, since John made such a smart and well-behaved suggestion.

Instead, Chas chuckles. “When you’re this little? No way.”

John’s expression darkens, his face falling into a pout, but, being well-behaved and all, he decides to make a concession. “You can be there,” he mumbles, “jus’ not helping.”

Chas snorts, looking amused, and now John feels very annoyed. “What?” he snaps, and Chas frowns.

“Be nice,” he scolds lightly, and then he explains. “I know what’s going on. You think that just because you were such a grown-up being the leader and making a bunch of decisions before, you’re a big boy. Don’t you?”

He’s kind of impressively right, actually, except for how he’s definitely not, because he’s saying John only thinks he’s bigger, when, in fact, John is. He decided just now. “I am!”

“You’re definitely not,” Chas says. “You got really little really fast. You’re not as little as you ever get, but I’m starting to think you might be fighting it.” 

It’s all part of the game, of course, though John’s so into it that he can’t even tell at this point, or isn’t trying to.

John scowls and bounces a bit with frustration. “Not true!” He doesn’t wanna get so little. Not after all that. Really he shouldn’t be getting little at all, he thinks again, feeling another pang of shame, but he can’t seem to pull himself out, or he doesn’t want to. 

He crosses his arms. “Too grown-up to be little,” he insists.

“It’s fine, John,” Chas says gently. “It’s been a stressful month. You don’t have to be grown up all the time. You don’t even have to be a big boy. Just accept it. That way we can all unwind.” 

“I can shower!” John insists. 

“You’re taking a bath,” Chas says flatly, “because you’re covered in...stuff, and I let you not clean off right away because you wanted to play so badly,” and because he wanted to get a picture of how little John was gonna get, but he doesn’t say that part, “and I need to make sure you use soap and shampoo and clean yourself off completely, and I don’t think you can or want to do that alone when you’re so little.”

John makes a frustrated sound and grabs a toy car, ready to show Chas—or, rather, the wall—how unhappy he is with the situation. Then he hesitates for a moment, wondering if that’s a good idea, and Chas reminds him why.

“Do you really want to throw that, buddy? Or do you want to control yourself? Remember what happened last time.”

John contemplates the statement, and then, carefully, puts down the car, petting it a bit for good measure. No. Not worth it. 

He doesn’t want to damage his tiny car anyway. It has flames painted on the sides.

Chas smiles. “Good choice. That’s my good boy.” 

John pouts and mutters, “Still don’t wanna take a bath. Don’t need help.” 

“Yes, you do,” Chas says firmly. “Even if you think you’re a big boy.”

“I am!” John snaps again.

Chas, completely aware of the fact that John doesn’t even use the wildly childish phrasing of “big boy,” which he got from Chas in the first place, when he’s not indulging basically his littlest headspace, says, “Sure. Time for your bath and then bed, and tomorrow you can keep having fun.”

Incensed at the fact that he has had basically no victories here (mostly because, as Chas says, “if you give him an inch, he’ll set it on fire,” which is both mean and fair), John finally stands up, but only to stomp his foot. 

Chas, whose eyes lit up with hope for a glorious (for him) half-second there, looks vaguely disappointed before taking a deep breath and, like John, crossing his arms. 

“John Constantine,” he says firmly, even as John uncrosses his arms just to ball his hands into fists, “it is an hour from bedtime. You are a mess. I do not want you to take a shower, because you need my help. That means I am going to give you a bath, and you are going to behave for me.”

John narrows his eyes. “Shower! By! My! Self!”

“You’re. Getting. A. Bath. And. That’s. Final.” Chas responds, running out of patience. He finally moves forward, grabbing John by the shoulders to steer him to the corner. John half-heartedly struggles, but all he manages to do is stomp on Chas’s foot, an action that amounts to nothing, given that John’s in his sock feet and the fact that even though Chas isn’t wearing shoes either, he has enormous Bigfoot feet that appear to register no pain. (Incidentally, regarding Bigfoot: not a thing.) “Don’t do that. Behave.”

He parks John in the corner, and John lets out a whine of frustration but doesn’t try to leave, not even when Chas lets go of him and steps away. 

Jailbreaks, he’s found, are not worth the trouble, so he just stomps his feet, though he stops before kicking the scuffed wall, since he's still shoeless and there’s no satisfaction in hurting his foot. 

He crosses his arms and glowers at the corner as Chas says, “You can stay there until you change your mind about your bath.”

John glowers harder and lets out a little _humph_ sound, unhappy about being in the very boring corner, and contemplates, which he does a lot when little, considering how often he ends up standing in this corner. 

He turns the situation over in his head, and sniffs experimentally. He wrinkles his nose. He really doesn’t smell great, and he’s pretty tired, and maybe a bath would feel good. Better than a shower. And maybe a tiny bit of help from Chas, who’s already running the bath (John can hear it) wouldn’t be that bad. Just a tiny bit, though! 

Really, maybe John can show Chas, even in the bath, that he’s wrong and John doesn’t need so much help. 

And to show Chas, he has to get out of this stupid corner, so finally he says, “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I take a bath now?”

Chas lets out a sigh of relief. “Yes, John. You can take a bath.” He huffs. “At least I was able to get everything ready. Go ahead, turn around.”

John turns around and, after taking in the room for a second, including the PJs set out on the bed, runs to the bathroom. The tub is already ready, and John experimentally dips his hand into it. There are bubbles, and it’s exactly as warm as John likes it. He has no idea how Chas does that. How long was John in time-out?

John starts to get in, but Chas grabs him gently from behind. “John, buddy, you have to take your clothes off first.”

“Oh, right,” John mutters, stubbornly doing his best to help Chas, who’s already dressed in sleep clothes, divest him of his clothes. Chas at least lets him, though John bitterly suspects that it may be an indulging-him thing more than understanding that John’s big enough to bleeding undress himself. Once he remembers to do it. 

“Time to get in, buddy,” Chas says, and John does. “Good boy,” Chas tells him, which makes John feel a bit of a glow that he’d rather not spend too much time thinking about. 

John takes a deep breath. The water feels nice. He dips his head underwater and then resurfaces, grinning at Chas, who looks a little concerned until John shakes his head like a dog, sending droplets of water everywhere. Chas chuckles. “Don’t make a mess,” he says, but it’s half-hearted, and John lets Chas shampoo his hair as he soaks, though he occasionally wriggles a bit. 

“You’re messier than I thought you were,” Chas mutters, and John scowls, remembering that it’s important to show Chas he can do all this by himself. He’s been indulging Chas too long, clearly! John reaches clumsily for the soap just as Chas grabs it. John tries to pry it out of Chas’s hands, which isn’t very easy, given that it’s slippery, like soap, and it falls into the tub.

“John,” Chas says in a warning voice. “Give me the soap. Let me help you. It’ll feel nice.”

John grabs the soap himself, scowling and holding it to his chest. He’s not really using it, but that’s not the point. He got cleaned off by the shampoo anyway. 

“No! Done!”

“You are not done,” Chas says flatly, and John drops the soap again and, finally, fights back.

“Just let me do it!” John yells, and then he splashes water at Chas, which will show him it’s not fun to be all wet.

The shoulder of Chas’s shirt ends up soaked, and there’s water on his face and hair.

John can’t help but giggle. Chas looks a lot less amused. 

“Fine,” Chas says, unplugging the drain. “Get out of the tub.”

John brightens and stands up. He won! He gets out of the tub and reaches for a towel, but Chas grabs him before he can.

“You really do want to be a big boy,” Chas says. “Well, I’m not gonna let you be a brat for the next…I don’t even know how long.”

Oh, please, he’s making it sound like John’s gonna be little for days or something!

(“After this nonsense,” John grumbles, exhausted, throwing an arm over Chas’s chest, “I’m just gonna be little for bleeding days, provided some useless Satanist don’t bugger it up. I’ll peek my head out for a while, maybe, for a shag, but I’m done with this month.”

Chas laughs. “I’m all for it. Not sure if you’ll be.”

“All part of the game, yeah? You’ll manage, you always do.”

Chas pulls John closer, and John nuzzles his nose into Chas’s hair. “Sure,” Chas says. “What’s dealing with another little monster?” 

John guffaws. “At least you can spank this one.”)

Fighting the plan and Chas’s grip, John protests. “What’re you doing? Lemme dry off!” 

“Nope,” Chas says, and he hauls John, who has to grab onto him so he won’t slip, to the closed toilet, and sits down on the lid with John over his lap. There’s a worrying amount of space around them—enough to kick—and John swears there wasn’t like five minutes ago. 

(If John wasn’t sure the Mill House preferred Chas before…)

Then John, still dripping, is worried about something else. “Hey!” he squawks. “I’m all wet!” 

“Yes, you are,” Chas says, his joggers getting soaked, though apparently he’s finding it worth it. “What, you thought the bath was over? Nope. You’re just getting a break, but you’re not gonna like it.”

John’s eyes widen. “No!”

“Yep. Looks like I’m gonna have to get you to calm down and accept that you’re not a big boy.” 

“I am!”

“Fine, sure, but I give you spankings when you’re a big boy too,” Chas points out, and John’s feeling very worried now. “I just think you might extra not like it when you’re so little.”

“Not so little!” John says. 

“You’re definitely not in charge,” Chas continues. “So I’m gonna spank you until you’re all ready to be the good boy I know you want to be.”

John lets out a loud sound of protest, even though Chas might be right, because he’d rather Chas not be right like this. 

John whimpers without meaning to as he sees a few drops of water drip from his hair to the floor.

“But I’m still wet,” he points out again in a small voice.

“I know,” Chas says. “Do you think a spanking might sting more on a wet bottom?”

“I dunno,” John mumbles, voice shaking.

“What about a big boy spanking? Do you think you should get a big boy spanking, since you’re not so little?”

John is silent for a moment, and then, always ready to die on the stupidest possible hill at the worst possible moment, he squeaks out, “Yeah.” 

There’s a long pause, and then Chas lets out a huff of laughter. 

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, and then he says, “Okay. Let’s see how my big boy feels about that in a minute.” 

Before John can say anything to that, Chas’s hand comes down hard, and John shrieks. 

Oh, no. The smack is louder and it does sting worse. John clenches his jaw, because big boys should be good at taking spankings, but then Chas’s hand comes down five more times, and John, to his horror, bursts into tears exactly like a big boy doesn’t when he hasn’t even gotten ten spanks yet.

But it hurts! It hurts extra when his bottom’s wet and John doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like the way it stings red-hot, and he doesn’t like that he’s not wearing any clothes, and he doesn’t like that he got pulled out of the tub for this and not because he won, and he doesn’t like that he really, really wants this to stop right now but it’s not gonna because Daddy’s in charge. He also doesn’t like how that’s a relief.

Another smack. He cries out. 

Chas’s hand comes down three more times, fast and hard, and it really does sting more, and John cries out again, struggling. “No, no! Not bare! Not wet!” 

All Chas does is hold John more snugly. “Are you feeling very big?”

He smacks John’s upper thighs, and John howls.

“Didn’t think so,” Chas says, and he smacks John’s upper thighs a few more times, fast and hard.

John kicks. “Daddy, owie!” 

Chas hums sympathetically. “There you are. I’m sorry, buddy. This is what happens when you’re naughty in the bath while you try to be big. I show you how to behave and give up control. Over. Daddy’s. Lap.” Chas punctuates each word with a hard uppercut smack low on John’s ass, and John shrieks. 

“No! Please!”

“My polite little boy, starting to say please,” Chas says fondly. 

“Please,” John whimpers, his kicking already getting weaker because he’s tired and he just wants Daddy to take care of things, and since he does want that, then Daddy gets to spank him for being naughty, and John can cry and stop trying to be a big boy, except he shouldn’t, except—

Several smacks come down, stinging and thuddy at the same time, still on damp skin, and John howls and bucks. “Daddy, no!” he gasps, horrified. “No hairbrush!”

“You said you could get a big boy spanking,” Chas says, bringing the brush down steadily. “And big boys get the hairbrush.”

“Wait, wait, no, no no no,” John babbles, because, as opposed to dying on his hill, he’s getting the hairbrush on it and that’s maybe six million times worse, and it only takes a couple more smacks for John to dissolve into messy tears and begging. The hairbrush really really really hurts coming down, and he wants it to stop now. “Owie, owie, owie! Please, please, please, no! Daddy-y-y!”

It only takes a few more hard smacks for John’s words to mostly disappear, just howling, and Chas lightens the blows.

“You don’t like that, do you?” he asks, and John shakes his head.

“Owie,” he sobs out miserably, a childish exclamation he certainly never used when he was literally a child, and he should be much more embarrassed about that than he is. 

“It hurts?” Chas asks gently, pausing in the spanking, though John barely notices.

John nods, bawling. 

“Y’know, buddy, when I started spanking, you started crying a lot right away,” Chas says. “Like a baby. When you’re a big boy, it usually takes some more time. What happened to being a big boy?”

John’s sobs get heavy and humiliated, because Daddy’s right, he’s not acting big, he wants to finish his bath and he wants Daddy to rock him to sleep and he wants to use his new crayons and play with his tiny cars and plushies tomorrow and he doesn’t want to fight or even talk all that much, and when he’s spanked he wants to kick and cry hard right away. 

“Are you a big boy?” Chas asks in his most cooing tone of voice, which is one that annoys John when he’s actually bigger, but he likes it now. 

Finally, John just shakes his head, giving up. 

“Good,” Chas praises. “Now that you admitted it, you can have lots of fun and you can play without worrying and I can take care of everything. And you’ll let me give you a bath, won’t you?”

John nods fervently. “Please bath,” he sobs out, because he’s definitely had a change of heart on that.

“Soon,” Daddy promises. “But first I’m gonna finish up your spanking.”

John wails, but he can’t even bring himself to say “no,” just “owie.”

“That’s right, owie. When you misbehave and try to be a big boy and throw tantrums, you get owie until you’re crying and behaving for me like the good little boy you are right now, and when you’re naughty in the bath I don’t even dry you off before spanking you.”

John cries harder, and then Chas smacks him four more times, and John howls and sobs. 

He hears the hairbrush drop to the floor, and Chas puts a hand on his back. “All done,” he says. “You’re my little boy now, aren’t you?”

“Daddy,” John manages to sob out, kicking in response to his throbbing bottom.

“Sh, buddy, Daddy’s here. I’m right here. You did good. You’re all ready to be my good boy.”

John nods.

“Deep breaths,” Chas says, and, obediently, John takes deep breaths, though his sobs are still loud and childish when Chas urges him to get up, because John’s not just crying from the spanking. He’s crying from the exhaustion, he’s crying from the difficult month, he’s crying because he’s relieved it’s over and so is being a grown-up, for a while, and so is the part where he stops caring that he isn’t acting like one.

John stumbles to his feet and then sinks to his knees next to the tub, Chas helping lower him down so he doesn’t fall and bruise himself. 

Chas gets the tub ready again and urges John to get in. John manages to crawl his way in, and sits and continues to cry while Chas coos.

“My poor baby, my good little boy. It’s all over. You don’t have to do anything but let me give you your bath, okay? You can just cry as much as you want.” 

So John does, crying heavily as Chas bathes him and tells him how well he took his spanking and what a good boy he is and how he’ll be able to rest and how Daddy will take care of him and isn’t it nice to be clean, and it makes John feel much better. 

“Daddy,” he sniffles as Chas coaxes him to stand up and drains the tub. “Daddy, cuddle.”

“I’m gonna change my clothes because I’m wet too,” Chas says. “And then I’m gonna change you. After that you’ll get lots of cuddles. Do you want me to sleep with you?”

John nods tearfully as Chas starts drying him off. 

“Okay, buddy, I will.” 

John squirms when Chas dries off his back and bottom, and he lets out a sob. “Owie,” he whimpers.

“I know,” Chas coos. “That was a lot of owie, but it’ll feel better tomorrow.”

John sniffles and nods and obediently sits on the bed, though his lip trembles when Chas leaves, promising to come back. He sniffles quietly the whole time he’s alone, perking up a little when Chas comes back in. Chas softens when he sees him.

“Aw, buddy,” Chas says gently. “It’s all over. You’ll get cuddles and you’ll play a lot tomorrow.” 

John gives Chas a tearful smile, and lets himself be dressed in his pajamas.

Chas wipes away a tear from John’s cheek and frowns a bit. “Okay, I have to do one more thing,” he says. “So I have to leave for just a minute.”

John’s eyes widen and he grabs Chas’s shirt. “No fair!” he whines. “You said you’d come back.” 

Chas strokes his hair and murmurs, “I will, promise. I just need to get you some water and clean you off some more.”

John, strongly opposed to this turn of events in spite of the fact that his face is somehow still a mess and water would be nice, clutches harder. Over John’s shoulder, Chas sees something, and leans over to grab it. 

It’s Diabolus the stuffed cat, and John brightens when Chas waves it in front of him, snatching it and holding it to his chest. “Kitty,” John says, briefly satisfied, and Chas nods, shifting off of the bed while John is distracted. Thank God for John’s fascination with toys. 

(Even if Chas will never stop internally complaining about the cars, which Zed gave John and which John tragically turned out to be obsessed with. Given that Chas is the one who cleans up after John, a guy who takes great joy in sending his entire toy box absolutely everywhere, he’s pretty much one hundred percent sure that Zed, who thinks he’s too strict—and look, Chas may be strict, but he insists that Zed goes too far in the other direction—got those just to fuck with Chas, specifically.)

“Yep,” Chas says as John pets the plush toy. “How about you give your kitty some hugs until I can come back?”

John, somewhat appeased, nods. “But you really have to come back,” he insists again as Chas stands, and Chas gives him a bittersweet smile.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, buddy,” he says as he leaves the room, and John manages to distract himself enough to not feel anxious for the couple of minutes Chas is gone, though he brightens when Chas comes back in with water, which John readily drinks, and a wet cloth, which John frowns at.

“C’mon,” Chas says gently, “show me your face. You cried a lot and I don’t want you to go to sleep like that.”

John makes unhappy mewling noises, but he turns his face to Chas, who says, “That’s my good boy.”

John gives Chas a couple of minutes before decreeing, “Done now!”

Thankfully, Chas is in fact done, and he puts aside the wet rag and kisses John’s forehead. 

John smiles before getting down to business. 

“Daddy, lap,” he says, because even with the reaction he had, the spanking wasn’t severe enough that he’s going to have real trouble sitting down, just a guiltily pleasant ache that reminds him of how Daddy takes care of him, and Chas gamely lets him climb into his lap and cuddle up against him while Chas rocks him back and forth. 

It means Chas is going to have to do some maneuvering to get John under the covers once he gets to sleep, but John doesn’t really care, because he knows that when he wakes up he’ll be cuddled up next to Chas in bed some way or another, and that makes him happy, and that’s how he feels when he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to within_a_dream for cheerleading and convincing me to post this!


End file.
